


Eyes Like Fire, Lips Like Blood

by i_owe_you_a_bourbon



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dragon Riders, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_owe_you_a_bourbon/pseuds/i_owe_you_a_bourbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you doing here, Carter?” he asked, noticing her sitting there as he made his way towards the hangar doors. </p><p>Peggy twisted her head around to look at him. “I’m eating my lunch, Agent Thompson, what does it look like?”</p><p>“Not plannin’ on stealing one of our dragons, are you?” he asked, giving her a half-smile that Peggy supposed was intended to be friendly.</p><p>“It would hardly be stealing,” she informed him. “I am an agent of the SSR, these dragons belong to me as much as you. The difference being I actually know how to ride them properly. Would you like some pointers, Agent Thompson? Your dismount seemed a little sloppy.”</p><p>Thompson shook his head at her, the irritating little smile still fixed on his face. “Sure thing, kid,” he said. “Maybe one day I can even be as good as you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Strategic Serpent Reserve

“So you… rode… Captain America during the war,” Chief Dooley said, glancing up at Peggy significantly.

She took a deep breath. “Yes, briefly,” she said. “But that’s not why I’m here.” 

“Make no mistake, Miss Carter, that’s why you’re here,” the chief muttered.

“Agent.”

Dooley raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“Agent Carter. I am a fully qualified agent of the Strategic Serpent Reserve, and have been for some time now – longer than most of the men in this office. _That_ is why I’m here. With all due respect, sir.”

“Due respect noted, _Agent_ Carter,” Dooley said dryly, turning his attention back to the file in front of him and scanning the information on the first page. “You worked with the SSR for the length of the war. You were involved in Project Rebirth and the creation of the super serpent serum. You – _briefly_ – rode Captain America. You rode with the Howling Commandos – ”

“I led them.”

Dooley shot her a look before continuing. “ – in their mission to eliminate Hydra.” He leaned back in his chair and gestured at her. “And now you’ve wound up dumped on me.” 

“That’s about the long and the short of it, Chief Dooley,” Peggy said, trying to stand up a little straighter. She felt very much like she was a schoolgirl again, back in the headmistress’s office, being chastised for getting into fights in the schoolyard (even though the girls she had been fighting had been bullies who had deserved every punch she gave them).

Dooley let out a heavy sigh, then stood and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, Carter.”

She reached out and shook his hand, smiling brightly. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad to be here.” 

“If you cheese me off or get too underfoot, I won’t hesitate to throw you out,” Dooley warned. “That clear?” 

Peggy sighed, the smile dropping from her face. “Abundantly.”

Dooley sat back down, closing her file without bothering to finish reading it and reaching for the phone. He was in the middle of dialing a number when he realized she was still standing there. “Something I can help you with?” he asked, aggravation still thick in his tone.

“I’d like to get to work,” Peggy informed him. “Do you have an assignment for me?”

Dooley stared at her for a minute, then reached out and picked up Peggy’s file from his desk. He held it out to her. “First assignment. Go file this. Then one of the boys can find something for you to do.”

Peggy took a deep breath, then took the file from his hand. “Yes, sir,” she said, only putting in a mild effort to keep the irritation from her voice. She turned to go, the file clutched to her chest like a breastplate.

“That our new secretary?” were the first words she heard when she stepped out of Dooley’s office.

“I dunno, but I heard she’s the one who slept with Captain America,” the voice of another agent replied. 

“She slept with a _dragon_?”

“How do you think she got here?”

Peggy took another deep breath, counting to ten in her head. “Back to square one, then,” she muttered. And thrusting her head proudly into the air, she went to do her filing.


	2. Mr. Jarvis

“Hey Carter!” a familiar, grating voice barked across the office.

Peggy looked up. “Can I help you, Agent Krzeminski?” she asked, her eyebrow already partially raised in a singularly unimpressed manner in anticipation of his demands. The man sauntered over to her desk and smugly deposited a large stack of papers in front of her. She glanced down briefly, then back up at him, her eyebrow arching higher. “Do you need someone to read these to you?” she asked. “I know it can be challenging when there are words involved.”

“Ha ha,” said Krzeminski. He pointed at the papers. “I need those filed.” He turned and strode away. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, Carter,” he called over his shoulder.

Peggy watched his smugly retreating back in irritation for a moment, then pulled the papers towards herself with an aggressive sigh. “I’m bloody hilarious,” she muttered.

~ 

The one good thing about filing was that the file room was conveniently close to the dragon hangar, and Peggy had learned early on in her time at the SSR that if she strode into the hangar like she had some reason to be there, no one would take notice of her. And so, Krzeminski’s menial work completed, she sat perched on the gate of a dragon pen, her legs dangling into enclosure. “And the worst of it is, Mr. Jarvis,” she said, as best she could around her mouthful of sandwich, “half of the field agents in this office have never even actually ridden, much less had nearly as much experience as I have.”

“That must be exceedingly frustrating, Miss Carter.” The voice rang in Peggy’s head like a comforting melody. A small dragon sat in front of her, his head rested in her lap. He was quite tiny for a dragon, only about the size of a large lion, though much longer on account of his – quite elegant, in Peggy’s opinion – neck and tail. He was sleek and grey, covered from head to toe in glossy feathers that had a blue sheen to them in the right light. His wings resembled those of an owl, though his head and tail lent him more the appearance of a feathered cat than anything else. Peggy absently stroked that head with her free hand as she used the other to stuff her face with sandwich.

“What of you, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked. “Any news on when you might get to fly?”

“I’m not sure I ever will,” the dragon said, letting out a sigh that blew softly against Peggy’s stomach. “They still seem to think my size and lack of armour make me rather useless.”

“They are wrong, of course,” Peggy said, scratching him consolingly behind one ear. His eyes slid partially closed with pleasure and he began to rumble with something resembling a purr. “I assure you, Mr. Jarvis, if – _when_ – I am given a chance to ride, you will be my first choice of mounts. Provided everyone is still blinded to your usefulness, which I sincerely hope they are not. One of us should get a chance to fly, at least,” she sighed.

A sudden commotion by the hangar entrance cut their conversation short, and they both diverted their attention to see what was going on. A large, golden dragon with a magnificent fedora was coming in for a landing. Peggy recognized it as Chad, arguably the agency’s best flyer. (Arguably because Peggy loyally would have said that Jarvis _could_ be the agency’s best flyer.) Peggy shook her head as she watched Agent Thompson slide out of the impressive dragon’s saddle. “Speaking of field agents with little to no practical experience in flying,” she muttered to Jarvis. “That dismount was laughable.” She turned her attention back to her lunch and her conversation. “How is your wife?” she asked.

“Well enough,” Jarvis replied, his voice in her head taking on a very happy note. “Eager for me to come home, of course, but she is holding up alright, even without me there to clean the nest.”

Peggy smiled down at him. “You’ll have your leave time soon enough, Mr. Jarvis, and then you can do all the cleaning your heart desires.”

Their conversation was interrupted for a second time, once again by Agent Thompson. “What are you doing here, Carter?” he asked, noticing her sitting there as he made his way towards the hangar doors.

Peggy twisted her head around to look at him. “I’m eating my lunch, Agent Thompson, what does it look like?”

“Not plannin’ on stealing one of our dragons, are you?” he asked, giving her a half-smile that Peggy supposed was intended to be friendly.

“It would hardly be stealing,” she informed him. “I am an agent of the SSR, these dragons belong to me as much as you. The difference being I actually know how to ride them properly. Would you like some pointers, Agent Thompson? Your dismount seemed a little sloppy.”

Thompson shook his head at her, the irritating little smile still fixed on his face. “Sure thing, kid,” he said. “Maybe one day I can even be as good as you.”

“Not a chance, soldier.” She shot a pointed look at her wristwatch. “Oh, look at that, the work day isn’t over yet. You probably have somewhere to be.”

Thompson gave her a salute that lacked even an approximation of proper form. “Sir, yes sir,” he said. “Enjoy your lunch. We’ll give you a shout if we need any coffee.” He headed off in what could only be described as a strut.

Peggy turned back to her dragon and her – still disappointingly unfinished – sandwich. “Mr. Jarvis, have you ever been struck by a nearly overpowering urge to strangle somebody with your bare hands?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Carter,” the dragon replied. “I don’t have hands.”


	3. Ghost Dragon

The office was all but empty when Peggy arrived the next day. Agents Krzeminski and Sousa were at their desks, but none of the other agents were anywhere to be seen. She walked the length of the office in confusion, stopping by Sousa’s desk and looking around. “Daniel, where is everyone?” she asked curiously. 

Sousa looked up in surprise. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Clearly not,” Peggy said, only a little crossly. “What’s going on?” 

“There’ve been dragon attacks all over the city. Reports have been flying in for hours of some black dragon with a metal wing raining hellfire on New York. Everyone’s saying the same thing: it hits fast and hits hard, then just vanishes. Some people are thinking it’s a ghost.” 

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s dramatic.”

“Jeez, Carter,” said Krzeminski. “We’ve all been on this for hours. What rock have you been living under?”

“None of my making, I assure you,” Peggy informed him coolly. “I’m sure the SSR and our government is doing their best to keep this contained and quiet. And apparently no one felt I qualified for the honour of getting a head’s up on the situation.” She turned her attention back to Sousa. “Why would a dragon be attacking us?” she asked. “They’re our allies.”

“I guess not anymore,” said Krzeminski, clearly not picking up on the fact that Peggy was excluding him from the conversation. “It doesn’t seem like this lizard is looking for scones and a chat.”

“Dragons haven’t attacked human settlements since before the war,” Peggy insisted. “Surely there’s an explanation.”

“If there is, we’ll find it,” said Sousa. “Every agent in the office has been sent out to try and find our ghost dragon. Even the chief is off with some bigwig or other trying to figure this thing out. We’ll get answers.” He shot her a wry look. “Well, every agent but us, of course.”

“And me,” Krzeminski grumbled. “I was left behind to babysit the peg-leg.”

“At least they left one competent agent,” Peggy informed him.

“Yeah, at least,” he muttered.

Before he could figure out Peggy hadn’t been referring to him – although it was no certain thing he would ever figure something of that level of complexity out – the elevator doors slid open and Thompson staggered into the room, supported by Agent Russell and a blonde woman Peggy had never seen before. “Found our ghost,” he called, letting Russell and the woman help him across the room to his desk. He was limping heavily and his usually immaculate suit was rumpled and bloody.

“Serpent bastard attacked my house,” Russell growled, depositing Thompson in his chair. “Busted Thompson’s leg and damn near killed my girlfriend.” He put an arm protectively around the blonde woman, who clung to him, her eyes wide and terrified.

“Your house?” Peggy asked incredulously. “Why would the beast attack your house?”

“Because it’s a damn monster,” said Thompson. “Why else?” He put a hand on his leg, a pained look on his face.

“Were any of the other agent’s homes targeted?”

“None that have been reported,” Thompson replied. “What’re you getting at, Carter?”

“It just seems odd, doesn’t it? If you’re going to attack a city, there must be some goal. And what goal could be furthered by attacking the home of one man, unless the point is to take out New York’s dragon riders?”

“None of the places that’ve been hit make sense,” said Russell. “It’s a mindless beast. Probably just a coincidence that it happened to hit an agent.”

“Perhaps,” said Peggy. “But dragons are hardly mindless beasts. There must be some method to this madness. Can I see a list of the reported attacks?” Sousa nodded and moved to his desk to retrieve a piece of paper. He returned and handed it to Peggy, who spread it out on Thompson’s desk. All the agents crowded around her to examine the list and try and follow her train of thought. After a moment Peggy shook her head. “This isn’t random. An abandoned warehouse district, the docks. All these places have one thing in common: they’re the perfect place for an ambush.”

Sousa looked at her in alarm. “This is a trap,” he said. He grabbed his crutch from where it was leaning against the table. “We need to warn the others.” 

Peggy nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

“Not a chance, Carter,” Krzeminski informed her. “I was put on cripple duty. I’ll go.” He headed towards the elevator. “C’mon, Sousa, shake a leg,” he called.

“For the record, I’d rather go with you,” Sousa muttered to Peggy. 

She smiled. “Me too,” she said. “Be careful, Daniel.” 

He nodded. “You bet.” He reluctantly followed Krzeminski into the elevator.

Thompson was still studying the list of reported attacks, his brow furrowed. “This still doesn’t make sense,” he said, glancing up at Peggy. “The warehouse, the docks, sure. But why Russell’s house? To the best of my recollection, we didn’t get ambushed there.”

Peggy shook her head. “I don’t understand that one either, Agent Thompson,” she confessed. “It doesn’t seem to make sense, unless the intent was to take out one of our agents.”

“But I wasn’t even home when the attack started,” said Russell. “It was just my girlfriend.”

Peggy’s eyes widened and she glanced around the room. “Where is she?” she asked suddenly. “I don’t see her.”

Russell looked around. “I don’t know,” he realized, somewhat frantically. “God, do you think something happened to her?” 

“On the contrary, Agent Russell,” said Peggy grimly, “I think that was the point of the attack on your home. It was to get her inside.”

Russell stared at her with a look of non-comprehension. “Get her inside? What does Dottie have to do with any of this?”

As though in answer, the office was plunged into darkness.

~

The elevator slammed to jarring halt, and the lights went dead. As the dim emergency lights flickered on, Sousa glanced around in confusion, his gaze falling on Krzeminski’s equally bewildered face. “What the hell just happened?” Krzeminski asked.

Sousa shook his head. “I don’t know. This elevator is top of the line. Unless somebody cut power to the entire building, this shouldn’t happen.”

“Think it was that dragon?”

“The dragon would have to be inside the office to do this kind of damage.” 

“Yeah, so?”

“You think the dragon might have infiltrated the building, found the electrical room, and hit the kill switch? All without us noticing?”

Krzeminski shrugged. “Could happen. Maybe it’s a ninja dragon.”

Sousa stared at Krzeminski for a moment, then turned his gaze upward. “Please don’t let this be where I die,” he muttered pleadingly.


	4. A Sweet Dame from Iowa

“Well, this is bloody fantastic,” said Peggy, drawing her gun and scanning the room for any stray Dotties in the red glow of the emergency lights.

“Did anyone notice her leave?” Thompson asked, drawing his own weapon.

“If I had, we wouldn’t be in this fix,” Peggy assured him.

Russell shook his head, his own weapon still undrawn. “This has to be some kinda mistake,” he said. “Dottie can’t have any part in this. She’s just a sweet dame from Iowa, she’d never hurt anyone.”

“You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve led men to believe I was a harmless dame while undercover,” Peggy informed him. “Get your head in the game, agent. Whether she’s involved or not, we still need to find her. And I strongly recommend you arm yourself.”

“Since when do you give the orders, Carter?” Russell snapped. “If anyone’s in charge here, it’s Thompson, not you.”

“Just ‘cause you don’t like what she’s saying, doesn’t mean she’s not right,” said Thompson.

“C’mon, Jack, you can’t seriously believe my girlfriend is a part of this!” Russell said, slamming an angry hand on Thompson’s desk.

“I’d rather err of the side of caution, agent,” Thompson replied, fixing Russell with a cool stare. “I suggest you do the same and have your weapon on the ready. Nobody wants to be scrapin’ your brains off the wall.”

“To hell with you both,” Russell growled. “I’m gonna find her and prove you both wrong.” He stalked away across the office.

“Russell!” Thompson called after him. “Russell, get back here!” He tried to stand and failed dismally, falling back into his chair with a wince. He glanced up at Peggy. “Help me up,” he said. “We need to go after him. If you’re right about Dottie, he’s gonna get himself killed.”

Peggy nodded and moved forward to haul Thompson out of his chair. “He does seem rather emotional at the moment,” she agreed. “Can you stand?” she asked, hesitantly keeping an arm around him.

He nodded, but grimaced as soon as she released him and he was forced to put weight on his leg. “Damnit,” he muttered. Peggy moved forward to right him before he was able to topple back into his chair. “I might need some help,” Thompson admitted.

Peggy nodded. “An accurate assessment of your character, Agent Thompson.” She locked her arm firmly around him. “Ready?” He nodded, looking rather unhappy with the situation. Peggy couldn’t blame him, but she was still struck with his uncanny resemblance to a pouting school boy.

They started across the office, having to go much slower than either of them would have liked. “When I get my hands on Russell I’m going to strangle him,” Thompson muttered.

“Not if I get there first,” Peggy grunted. Jack Thompson was not by any means a large man, but when one had to practically carry him with one arm for any length of time, he began to seem a great deal larger.

Thompson stumbled, almost bringing Peggy down with him, causing loud swearing on both their parts. “How the hell does Sousa manage this every day?” Thompson grumbled.

“With much more grace and a proper crutch.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Carter, you’re doing fine.”

“At least I’m being put to more use than usual,” Peggy informed him, lugging him out the office doors and into the hallway. There she stopped. “Agent Thompson,” she said. “It has just occurred to me that with the power out, the elevator will have stopped running. Russell must have taken the stairs, and I’m afraid we’ll have to follow.”

“Bloody fantastic,” Thompson muttered.

“Was that an expression of your pain or was it supposed to be an English accent?” Peggy asked. “I’m honestly not sure if I should be offended or concerned.” 

“It’s what you Brits sound like to me.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “Under normal circumstances I would assume you had never met anyone from anywhere even close to any part of Britain, but I happen to know that’s not the case.” She hefted him more firmly into her grasp and eyed the stairs. “Shall we?” she asked.

Thompson nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

~

“Someone should tell whoever built this damn thing that there’s such a thing as _too_ secure,” Krzeminski huffed, making one last admirable attempt to pry the elevator doors open before he gave up and sunk to the floor across from Sousa, who had abandoned the idea of escape after the first few tries.

“Maybe you’re just not pulling hard enough,” Sousa sighed. While Krzeminski had been working at the elevator doors he’d been less inclined to speak. Sousa had been enjoying that. He wasn’t ready to see it end.

“Not like you’re being any help,” Krzeminski informed him. “You’re missing a leg, not an arm. You can pull.”

“That hurts; here I thought we were having so much fun together.” 

“That’s ‘cause you don’t have to put up with you.” Krzeminski groaned and thunked his head back against the elevator wall. “Think the others will get us out soon?”

“As soon as they can. If the power’s out, something must be going on.”

“What do you think they’re up to out there?”

“Dealing with that damn ninja dragon, probably.”

Krzeminski glared at him. “When you say it, it sounds stupid,” he grumbled.


	5. Last Line of Defense

The railing in the stairwell made the journey a little easier than Peggy had been dreading. She managed to get Thompson down to the floor that housed the electrical room without resorting to pushing him down the stairs and hoping he was hardy enough to survive the fall. Even so, it was slow and laborious progress, and all their attention was so diverted by Thompson’s leg and the struggle it provided that there wasn’t much of a chance for them to flesh out any kind of action plan. Or talk. At all. Peggy considered it a blessing in disguise.

“Are you sure this is the right floor?” Thompson asked as they exited the stairwell. He blinked around with eyes that were far too glassy and confused for Peggy’s liking.

“Quite certain, Agent Thompson,” she said, taking more of his weight onto herself in an attempt to relieve at least a little of his pain. “I know it well. It happens to be on the same floor as the filing room and my illustrious destiny as the world’s most overqualified secretary.” Thompson chuckled at that, much to Peggy’s relief, and she smiled back with what was perhaps the warmest and most genuine smile she had ever graced him with. From the look on his face, he was a little thrown. 

“And you think Russell woulda come here?” Thompson asked, looking around, his eyes a bit more focused now. “He didn’t seem too impressed by the idea that his girlfriend might be behind our little power problem.” 

“No, but it’s the only lead he would have had on her whereabouts. And the only lead we have on his. At the very least maybe we can get the power back on.” Thompson nodded his assent and gave her a little tug to get her moving again. Under normal circumstances she would have much preferred that he communicate with his words, but given how pale he was at the moment and the slight sheen of sweat that was forming on his skin, she didn’t hold it against him.

“So this is where the magic happens,” Thompson said as they passed by the all-too-familiar filing room.

“This is where all magic goes to die,” Peggy informed him. “As you would know, if you ever bothered to do your own filing.”

“I’ve got better things to be doing,” Thompson replied. But he had the decency to shut his mouth and acquire a look of moderate shame as she arched an extremely unimpressed brow in his direction. They carried on in silence for a time. 

“Here we are, Agent Thompson,” Peggy announced, rounding the corner with her burden and coming to a stop in front of the electrical room. “Let us pray for good things.” She swung the door open. Their prayers went unanswered. The entire room was in chaos; wires were cut, parts that were probably extremely vital were smashed, and the place was shot to hell. In the middle of the room lay Agent Russell, his head twisted at an unnatural angle and his eyes staring unseeingly off into the distance. “Bloody hell,” Peggy whispered.

“Damnit, Russell,” Thompson muttered. “You idiot.” Peggy could tell the new rush of pain that flooded his face had nothing to do with his leg. Unconsciously, her arm tightened around him a little bit. 

“There’s nothing we can do here,” she said softly. “There will be time to mourn later, agent. For now I’m afraid we must press on.” Thompson nodded wordlessly, his eyes still fixed on Russell’s body. It was Peggy’s turn to give him a tug, moving him out of the room and closing the door behind them. “We have to get to the dragon hangar,” she said. “The power cut before Daniel and Krzeminski would have made it there. If the others have already been ambushed and this ghost dragon is as much a threat as it seems, we are the last line of defense this city has against whatever nefarious plot is afoot.”

“No pressure,” Thompson said dryly as they set off in the direction of the hangar.

Peggy shrugged with her free shoulder. “I’ve been in worse situations,” she said, shooting him a smile. “Nothing we can’t handle.” She noticed their progress had slowed considerably since they’d first started out. Wordlessly, she took more of his weight onto herself and pressed forward. 

Their movement continued to slow, and after a time Thompson came to a full stop. His breathing had become a little ragged, and his lips were looking worryingly blue. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head and pulling away from her to lean heavily against the wall. “I can’t go any further, Carter.”

“We’re almost there,” she said, refusing to release her hold on him. “Once we get to the dragons it’s smooth sailing.”

He shook his head again. “There’s no chance I’m riding in this condition,” he informed her. “You said it yourself – I ain’t the strongest rider to begin with.”

“This is no time to be feeling self-conscious, mate,” said Peggy. “We’re getting you out of here if we have to strap your arse to a dragon.”

“I’m tryna be practical. I’m slowing us both down and you know it. You’re always goin’ on about how good you are, now’s your chance to prove it. Just go, Peggy. I’ll be fine.”

Peggy shook her head. “Not a chance. We’ve already lost one agent today, I’m not about to lose another. Now quit your whinging and get a move on, soldier,” she barked. With every ounce of strength she had in her by-now aching arm, she heaved him off the wall. He seemed to have exhausted whatever fight had been in him, and he didn’t attempt to stop her. Like a good, obedient soldier, he gritted his teeth and pressed on, much to Peggy’s grim satisfaction.

Their slow, awkward walk continued in silence, in part because neither of them felt too much like talking and in part because they both knew there was a very good chance that if Dottie was still in the building anywhere, it would be on this floor. This suspicion grew as they rounded the next corner and were greeted with the sight of the hangar door standing slightly ajar. Peggy and Thompson exchanged a glance, then continued down the hall as softly as they could manage with Thompson’s broken gait. As they neared the door, the sound of voices drifted to their ears.

“That’s the last of them,” came the voice of a man with a thick Russian accent. “Every dragon in this city is now under my control. But I need you to make sure there are no distractions for me once I get out there. These dragons are strong-willed beasts. Any slip of concentration and I may lose them.”

“We can’t have that,” replied a female voice. “We’ll need these dragons to burn this city to the ground.”

The Russian man chuckled. “Precisely,” he replied.

Peggy looked over at Thompson. “That’s what they’re after,” she whispered. “The dragons.”

“And the city,” Thompson muttered grimly. “Peggy, they’re gonna burn New York.”

Peggy narrowed her eyes. “That, Agent Thompson, is where you’re wrong. We may be the last line of defense, but we are still a line of defense. And as long as I still have breath in my body, no one will lay one finger on my city.” With that, she drew her weapon and hauled him forward through the door and into the hangar.


	6. What Needs to be Done

“I thought we might have visitors,” said the man standing in the hangar, smiling at Peggy and Thompson as they burst into the room. Peggy just had time to realize that Dottie was nowhere in her field of view before something slammed into her back. She fell forward, losing her hold on Thompson as she went down. Hitting the ground, she rolled forward, coming up and spinning around in time to dodge a fierce kick that was about to strike her chest. The blonde woman gave her no time to recover or even catch a breath, coming at her again with another well-aimed kick that knocked the gun from Peggy’s hand, quickly followed by a furious and deadly precise assault of fists. Whoever this Dottie was, she was highly trained, that much was obvious. It was the single coherent thought Peggy could formulate. Dottie seemed to be everywhere, darting in and out only to come at Peggy from a new angle, quick as a spider.

But if Dottie was a spider, Peggy was a sledgehammer. And even the quickest of spiders can’t last long against the blunt force of such a tool. The briefest of pauses in Dottie’s onslaught was enough for Peggy to collect herself, and when the blonde woman came in again, she was ready. Catching her by the arm, Peggy slammed Dottie’s head downward, bringing one knee up and driving it into the blonde’s face. Dottie staggered backward, Peggy close behind, striking her fists against every part of the woman’s body she could land a punch on. A blow to the stomach doubled Dottie over, and Peggy took the opportunity to deliver a particularly vicious roundhouse kick to her head, feeling an immensely satisfying crunch of bone against her foot. She readied herself for another attack as Dottie straightened up again.

But Dottie didn’t seem inclined to continue the fight. Instead, she was backing away, blood streaming from her nose and staining the almost feral grin that had found its way onto her face. And then Peggy heard the unmistakable click of a gun cocking behind her. “Don’t move,” came Thompson’s voice. Peggy slowly turned around. He was leaning up against one of the dragon pens, a gun in his hand and a vacancy in his eyes. Peggy knew he needed to lean on the pen for support at the moment, but she couldn’t help but be impressed at how casual he made it look.

The Russian man stood next to him, a pleased smile on his face. “Very good,” he said. “Focus, agent. She needs to be taken out. Just focus.”

“Agent Thompson,” said Peggy, keeping her voice as calm as she could. “This isn’t you. You don’t want to do this.”

“Sorry, Marge,” said Thompson. “Just doing what needs to be done.”

“Good,” said the Russian, still smiling. “Very good.” He strode over to Dottie. “Things are handled here,” he told her. “I think it’s time we take out leave.”

“You’re sure he can deal with her?” Dottie asked, her head tilted to one side as she examined Peggy. 

“Oh yes,” the man replied. “His mind is very weak. He was easy to get through to. He’ll get the job done nicely.” He offered his arm to Dottie, who took it. Peggy watched helplessly as they mounted two of the remaining dragons in the hangar and took off into the air, the few dragons that were still left following in their wake.

Peggy turned her attention back to Thompson. He hadn’t shot her yet. That was something. She could work with that. “Thompson,” she said. “Jack. Please just listen to me. New York is in danger. We need all hands on deck right now, and that includes you.”

Thompson shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I need to do this. It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what, Agent Thompson? Because it looks to me like the only way to keep me from doing my damn job and saving everyone’s lives.”

“Exactly,” he said softly. “I can’t let you do that, Peggy. You’re better than me. In every way. I can’t let you be better than me. I can’t let anyone be better than me. If I’m not the best, I’m nothing.”

“Jack,” Peggy said. “You’re not nothing. You will never be nothing.” She took a step towards him. 

“Stop,” he commanded, raising the gun a little more.

Peggy froze again, raising her hands placatingly. “You’re not nothing,” she repeated. “You have the respect of everyone in the SSR. You’re a war hero. I can’t take any of that away from you.”

“You can,” he whispered. “It’s lies, Peg. It’s all lies. And I can’t let them see that. If they see that, I’ll be just another broken bum on the street. I’ve worked too hard to not be that person to let you take it away from me. I can’t let you be better than me.”

“Jack,” said Peggy, her heart breaking a little at the naked pain and bitterness in his voice. “I don’t want to take anything from you. I’m not better than you. But if you kill me now and let the city burn, you will never forgive yourself. It will destroy you. And you will be that man you’ve tried so hard to get away from. Please, Jack, you have to believe me. Put the gun down.” 

“I can’t,” Thompson said, but there was something in his eyes now, a glimmer of confusion and conflict, that gave her heart.

“Please, Jack,” she whispered. “We’ve just been through a war. We’ve lost too much. _I’ve_ lost too much. Don’t make me lose you too.” Peggy took another step forward, tentatively holding out her hand to him. He flinched, but he didn’t say anything, and he still didn’t shoot. “Put the gun down. Please.” She took another step. She was almost right in front of him now. One more step and she was there. Reaching her hand out, very slowly, she closed it around the gun. His fingers tensed around it for a moment, then relaxed and allowed her to pull it from his grip. And before Peggy knew what was happening, he was falling forward into her arms, burying his head in her shoulder.

“Peggy,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Peggy.”

“It’s alright, Jack.” She rubbed his back awkwardly with the hand that wasn’t holding the gun. “You’re alright.” She held him tightly for a moment, until he emerged from the burrow he had made out of her shoulder and hair, took a deep breath, and looked her in the eye.

“They’re going to burn the city,” he said.

“Yes, I should really go save it.”

He looked around. “They took all the dragons.”

Peggy grinned at him. “Not all,” she said. “I watched them flying off. I’m afraid they rather missed one. She latched her arm back into its place around Jack and helped him over to her favourite of all the dragon pens. Sure enough, there, tucked at the very back, was a small bundle of feathers. “Hello, Mr. Jarvis,” she said.

The bundle unfurled, turning its cat-like eyes on her with a great deal of delight. “Hello, Miss Carter,” he replied. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me in a most embarrassing situation. There was a very unpleasant man in here, you see, and I wished to avoid coming into contact with him.”

“I fully understand your cowering; most forgivable, under the circumstances.”

“Thank you, Miss Carter. From what I overheard, it does seem we have ourselves in a bit of a pickle.”

“Your capacity for understatement never fails to amaze me, Mr. Jarvis. How would you feel about saving the city?”

The dragon perked up. “I would feel splendid about it.” 

“Excellent. Very good.” She opened the pen and ventured in, towing Thompson with her. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here, Jack,” she said softly, helping him to sit down on a particularly comfortable looking bunch of hay. “Mr. Jarvis isn’t big enough for the both of us.” She ignored the indignant huff from the dragon behind her.

He nodded, gritting his teeth as he moved his leg into a more comfortable position. “Trust me, Peg, I’m not complaining. With Dottie gone, I should be fine.”

She nodded, then held the gun out to him. “Even so. Take this. If I come back and find you dead, I will be most displeased.” 

He grinned up at her. “We wouldn’t want that.”

She returned the smile. “No, we wouldn’t. So keep yourself alive, soldier.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Peggy nodded. “Good.” She turned back to Jarvis. “Are you ready, Mr. Jarvis?”

“I was born ready, Miss Carter,” said the dragon, straightening himself to his full (rather unimpressive) height. He followed her out of the pen.

Peggy scanned the room with her eyes until she spotted her own gun, still lying where it had landed when Dottie had kicked it out of her hand. She went to retrieve it, then returned to Jarvis’s side and hopped up onto his back. “That Russian hypnotist mentioned how vital it was for him not to be distracted,” she informed the dragon grimly. “Let’s see how well he keeps his focus with a bullet in his head.”

“I imagine he’ll find it most difficult indeed,” said Jarvis smugly. 

“Agreed, Mr. Jarvis.” She looked down at the dragon. “Let’s go.” Her mount’s eyes lit up as he sprinted forward, his wings stretching out on either side of them and beginning to flap, slowly at first, then picking up speed. And then they were airborne. Peggy felt a glad rush sweep through her, like she was coming home, and she could see the feeling echoed in Jarvis’s eyes as they burst out of the hangar and spiraled up into the open blue sky.


	7. The World’s Most Overqualified Secretary

The sky over New York was filled with dragons. The streets below were lined with people, gazing upward and pointing in confusion at the unusual sight above them. There hadn’t been that many dragons in the air since the war. It was a little alarming, but no one was sure whether they should be frightened or not. 

Not until the masked monster emerged from the clouds. It was a leathery, black serpent, like any other except for the black blinker wrapped around its face and the gleaming, metal wing that stretched out on its left side, adorned with a red star. As it spiraled downward, the crowd below caught a glimpse of a man and a pretty blonde woman mounted on its back. And then the air was filled with fire. With a mighty breath, the beast unleashed its flame upon the city, and everyone knew they should be afraid.

The other dragons were beginning to drift lower, their lazy circles gaining purpose, their vacant eyes gaining menace. The serpent with the metal wing was swooping in for another pass, the flame already brewing in its open mouth. The streets were in chaos now, everyone trying to escape this hellish death, everyone knowing they’d never make it in time.

And then there was a streak of grey above their heads. A small dragon unfurled itself in the air, directly in the path of the oncoming beast. It was close enough to the ground that the people on the streets could clearly see the woman that rode this dragon. Her eyes were fire and her lips were blood, and without a glimmer of fear on her face she placed herself between the city of New York and the army of dragons that circled overhead. One woman on a tiny dragon, against a sky full of fire and death. Yet anyone who had the chance to look upon this woman’s face could have held no doubt in their minds about who would emerge the victor in this battle.

The woman and her dragon hovered there, her unblinking gaze fixed upon the metal-winged monster that dove ever closer, the fire in its mouth growing brighter and hotter as it came. She raised her gun. A single shot was fired.

That single shot was all it took. The man on the black serpent reeled back, then toppled forward, falling from the dragon’s saddle to come crashing down onto the streets below. The moment he was gone, the blonde woman’s face filled with confusion and panic. She quickly pulled the dragon up out of its dive, bringing it back up towards the clouds. And slowly, the dragons in the sky stopped their circling, fluttering in the air like a flock of confused birds.

A young girl cowered on the streets below, gazing up at the scene above. She didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but she understood enough to know that in another moment the dragon with the metal wing would have burned her alive. She clutched her knees to her chest, her face buried in them, her small body wracked with sobs. When a shadow fell over her and blocked out the sun, she jerked her head up in terror.

There, standing over her, was the dragon lady. The sun behind the woman enclosed her head in a soft haze of light, and in that moment the little girl could have sworn she was an angel. The woman crouched down, warmth in her eyes and a kind smile on her lips. “There now,” she said. “There’s no need for tears.”

The girl sniffled. “I want my mama,” she whispered.

The woman stretched out her hand. “Let’s get you to your mother then, little one.”

And when the girl’s mother was found and had scooped her daughter into her arms, sobbing out a million thank yous, the first thing the little girl did was look at her with shining eyes and say: “One day, I’m going to ride dragons.”

~

“Think we’re ever getting outta here?” Krzeminski asked. He’d gotten bored enough that he’d removed his shoelace and was practicing tying knots.

Sousa had gotten bored enough that he was sitting and watching him. “If anyone’s still alive out there we will.”

“I have to piss.”

“That’s just what I wanted to hear, thank you.”

At that moment, the elevator suddenly lurched into motion. Krzeminski’s head jolted upward and he dropped his shoelace. “Are we crashing?” he asked. 

“Yes, Krzeminski, we’re crashing up.” Sousa grabbed his crutch and braced himself on the wall, pulling himself awkwardly to his feet. Krzeminski made a face at him, but didn’t have time to shoot back a witty reply before the elevator came to a halt and the doors finally slid open.

Dooley and the group of agents flanking him stared at the pair of them for a moment. “How long have you two been here?” the chief asked. 

“Gotta hit the head,” Krzeminski blurted, pushing his way through the group and hurrying away down the hall.

Dooley met Sousa’s eyes. “Never mind, son,” he said. “You don’t need to answer that.”


	8. Lady Hero of New York City

“Her eyes were fire and her lips were blood,” Thompson announced as Peggy came into the office. “She was bold to the point of reckless. Clever to the point of cunning. Assertive to the point of audacious. She was everything a Dragon Rider could hope to be. All hail the Lady Hero of New York City!” The office erupted into enthusiastic claps that brought a smile to Peggy’s face. Everyone’s eyes were on her as she strode through the office and, for once, she didn’t mind in the slightest.

Numerous handshakes and pats on the back later she arrived at Thompson’s desk and paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “The Lady Hero of New York City, Agent Thompson?”

He held up the newspaper he’d been reading from. “That’s what they’re calling you. They go on to say that some of the Howling Commandos’ skill must have rubbed off on you while you were mending their pants, but I figured I’d stick to the parts you wanted to hear.”

“How uncharacteristically thoughtful of you.” She looked at the crutch that was leaning against his desk. “I see you’ve decided to approach your injury with a proper crutch today.” 

He grinned. “Still no grace though.”

“I don’t know, Agent Thompson, you have a kind of stubborn grace about you.” She returned his smile. And if that shared smile lasted just the tiniest bit too long, it could probably be chalked up to nothing more than relief that they had survived.

~ 

It was Thompson’s personal opinion that it took far too long for legs to heal. Far too long barely being able to walk, far too long out of the field, and far too long not being able to strut. Jack Thompson had a hard time tolerating not being able to strut. But he soldiered through (with only a bit of griping), until the day finally arrived that his leg was well enough that he could once more strut like the most self-satisfied of peacocks. And strut he did.

On a particular Monday, Thompson strutted from the building at the end of his shift, as usual. He turned to the left and started down the street, as usual. Unlike usual, he caught sight of Peggy, standing at the street corner, leaning against a lamp post. She was watching him. “Hello, Agent Thompson,” she greeted him as he approached.

“Hey there, eyes-like-fire,” he said. “What’re you hanging around here for?”

Peggy straightened up, clasping her hands behind her back. “Well,” she said. “I was waiting for you, Jack.”

Thompson blinked. “Why?” 

Peggy’s eyes turned to look in some vague direction that wasn’t the direction of Thompson’s face. She coughed awkwardly. “I am going to ask you for a drink.”

Thompson raised his eyebrows. “Are you?”

“Yes.” Peggy nodded, a single, decisive nod.

“Well that’s…” he paused to clear his throat, “somethin’,” he finished lamely. 

Peggy nodded again. They stared at each other for a moment. “Well?” she prompted at last.

“You haven’t asked me yet, Peg.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Will you go for a drink with me, Agent Thompson?”

Thompson grinned. “Okay then, Agent Carter. Twist my arm.”

“Don’t make me,” she said, shaking her head at him. She moved to link his arm and gave him a little tug. “Come on.”

“You buyin’?” he asked as he fell into step beside her.

“Of course,” she informed him primly. “It would hardly be polite to take you for drinks and make you pay.”

He nodded. “True. I’ll have to let you take me out more often. Make it a little easier on my wallet.”

Peggy smiled up at him. “I can’t say I would object to such a turn of events.”

Thompson impulsively leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Neither would I, Carter,” he said softly.

Peggy wrapped one arm around his waist, tucking him to her side as she had when she’d carried him through the halls of the SSR on her way to save the world. “Perhaps,” she said, “provided we don’t hate each other by the end of the night, I might take you dancing.”

Thompson slung an arm around her shoulders. “I guess we’ll just have to do our best not to hate each other then,” he said. He smirked at her. “You know, Carter, you really are assertive to the point of audacious.” 

Fast as lightning, her free hand came around to deliver a solid punch to his stomach. “Shut up, Thompson,” she said.


End file.
